


A Drunk Confession

by Lucrusio



Category: Shingeki no Kyojin | Attack on Titan
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-12-02
Updated: 2015-12-02
Packaged: 2018-05-04 15:30:37
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,217
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5339246
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Lucrusio/pseuds/Lucrusio
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>What do you mean it's not a brilliant idea to call Marco when Jean's drunk ranting about his crush?</p>
            </blockquote>





	A Drunk Confession

**Author's Note:**

> It was supposed to be part of this elaborate coffee shop au but I got desperately stuck.  
> But this scene kept whispering to me in my sleep and I just had to get it out.

It came crashing down like a detonated tower, and Jean had to talk to someone about it. Anyone. Even if it had to be the idiotic train wrecks. He knew it was here, it had to be.

Pale and shaking, Jean looks under the table for his phone and hears his notification ping from across the room. Aw crap, that must be Marco. Jean fumbles for his phone and didn't bother with Marcos text. He immediately calls Connie.

"Jea-"

"Connie! I'm in so much trouble, man."

"Wait, calm down. What's going on."

"I can't tell you over the phone!"

"Why? Is there a body we need to hide? I've got connections if we need muscle."

"No, it's worse! There's  _feelings_  involved." Jean says in a hushed whisper.

"Ohhhh, I gotcha. Man, thought it was my time to shine. I'll ask Sasha to grab some more booze on her way home. See you soon."

Jean hangs up and stares at his phone. He questions his choice of friends and wonders how he ended up with these guys. He shrugs on his coat and heads over to Connie's.

-+-+-

"But you know? You know that feeling when its growing inside the heart? Like that warm sense.. sensatioon. And you just see them. And life is better. Even if everything around you is on fire and theres no way to defuuuse..defuse it. They're... He is the cup of water!"

"Uh huh." Connie nods along to Jean's rant and continues to drink. Only way to understand drunk logic is to be drunk.

"'n then realizing this, what this feeling means, alsoo makes the world shatter into... timbits. Can't figure if 's good or bad."

"Is that what they mean when we have crushes? It crushes your world into timbits?" Sasha waves at Jean with her potato chip. "Aw no, you made me think of them! Connie, I want donuts."

"It's platonic, I know. There's zero ways that he could possi..possibly even like me. Friends or something."

"He likes you fine." Connie reassures him.

"Likes him hella finee, if you know what I mean" Sasha snorts while cramming chips into her mouth.

"Dunno how it even happened. 'e talked, hung out, 'n then what's that? Feelings. That's what." Jean takes another swing from his cup.

"He's not even listening to us." Sasha says to Connie.

"Let him be," Connie says. "He's emotionally constipated. He's letting loose."

Sasha hears a muffled ping in Jeans coat hanging off the ugly chair Connie found at a thrift shop.

An idea comes to her.

She can either tell Jean that his phone keeps ringing and he needs to respond to whoever is messaging him. Or...answer it herself. If she can get her hands on it, there are only two outcomes she can think of. If it turns out bad, Connie and Sasha might owe Jean a years worth of alcohol therapy. But if it turns out good, it can end all this unnecessary pinning and extensive booze spending that could be used for food spending. No reason to think it all the way through, it's time to initiate stealth mode.

"Connie," Sasha whispers as quietly as she possibly could, not that it mattered with Jean mumbling away. "Keep him distracted. I need to steal Jean's phone."

Connie, her partner in crime, asks no questions and salutes with a closed fist wrist up over his heart acknowledging her mission.

"Oh maaaaaan, I feel soooooo bloated." Connie, sitting in between them on the couch, stretches over both Sasha and Jean, extends his short legs, and sticks his feet in Jeans face.

While Jean squawks and attempts to shove Connie off, Sasha rolls onto the floor and crawls towards the coat. Stealth, hell yeah. Mental high-five, Connie!

Sasha hears a string of very colourful curses, that she should take note and use for future reference, and Connie's loud laughing when she reaches for Jeans phone. 

Wow, twelve unread text messages. But Jean didn't have other friends that spammed like Sasha and Connie. Cuurious. To Sasha's dismay, Jean had a passcode on his phone. Wait. There was a phone call icon. Can she still call on his phone?

-+-+-

Marco has a gut feeling. Intuition tells him that Jean's been brushing Marco off the past week. He thought they were doing pretty well this summer.

Marco is actually quite apparent with his fondness for Jean, everyone and their blind grandmother can tell Marco is head over heels. Ymir makes it her quest to remind Marco of that regularly. Lucky for him, Jean is as dense as a block of ice.

Marco didn't like being in anyones face, so he is a bit hesitant when thinking of confronting Jean about this sudden distance.  
But Marco has to get to the bottom of this. If Marco did something wrong and Jean no longer wants anything to do with him, Marco deserves an honest closure. It'll hurt but it's better than being upset for not knowing what he did wrong.

 **Marco: Jean, we need to talk.**  
**Marco: I dont mean to sound serious.**  
**Marco: I just want to know whats going on.**  
**Marco: Did I do something wrong?**  
**Marco: Or something I didnt do?**  
**Marco: You can choose the time and place if you feel more comfortable about it.**  
**Marco: Jean. Please.**  
**Marco: I know you hang out with toddlers who look somewhat adult.**  
**Marco: But this is childish even for you.**  
**Marco: Stop avoiding this. Just talk to me.**

Jean has never ignored him for this long. Not through text. Marco went through a quick list of worse case scenarios and starts to panic.

 **Marco: Are you in trouble?**  
**Marco: Are you hurt???**

After a full minute of worrying, Marco's phone rings in his hands and he nearly drops it down the kitchen sink.

"Jean! I-" Marco pauses and looks at his phone again. Its definitely Jean calling. But all he can hear is muffled curses and laughing. Did Jean pocket-dial him? "Jean?"

"So, Jean!" Marco catches Sasha's voice before he thinks of hanging up. "What was that you were saying about your feelings were like donuts?"

"Didn't say donuts," Jeans voice is distant. Or he's mumbling again. "It was timbits."  
Of course if Sasha's around, it isn't completely unusual that they were discussing food.

"So tell me again about the crushes of timbits. This crush of yours."

"Aw noo, Sasha!" There's Connie objecting. "We already spent so much listening to him pine about it tonight."  
No surprises there either. Jean isn't subtle with his affections for Mikasa.

"Did I tell you guys the smiles 'e gives?" Is Jean slurring? Are they drinking again? "Life's fucking cloudy aaall the time 'n one smile. One freckled smile 'n the sun ain't setting that day." That gets Marco's attention. Freckled? Mikasa's skin is flawless.

"Just think'n bout him's enough for me to feel better. Marco's kind, so kind it'd worry me but he's a sassy shit. Hangs out with Ymir for pete's sake. Handles himself fine."  
Jean's talking about him, Marco realizes.

There were bags being opened and munching in the background. He couldn't bring himself to mind. Heck, if this were Ymir ranting Marco would've pulled a bag of popcorn himself and enjoy the raving.

"Last week...He made me a freakin' latte. I don't like milk in my coffee but he shaped a cat on the latte. Wasn't even a good cat! Looked terrifying, really. But I drank it all anyway." Marco grimaces. Maybe he didn't have artistic sense like Jean did, but the cat looked fine. He worked hard on it!

"'n it fucking hit me. I _like_  him. I really really like him. Figured it out over milked espresso." Marco grips his phone, this better not be a prank.

"Sounds like a real... _cat_ astrophe." Sasha snickers at her own pun.

"The other day, I spaced out cuz I was counting freckles. Wanted to trace 'em. Wanted to _kiss_  'em. Hold his hand and just kiss him. Uuurgh, straight up grade school." Jean groans like it hurt to admit.

"So why didn't you?" Oh Connie, always asking the hard questions. "You know, tell him all this."

"Marco's...the type of guy you run into 10 years down the road 'n you catch up 'n find out he's got a steady job, a loving wife with two freckled munchkins, and a pet dog. Perfect fam." Marco frowns at that. He hears the clink of a glass being put down. "'part from you guys, he's the closest friend I have. 'm not gonna ruin it."

"Aw Connie!" Sasha exclaims. That sounds like a bag of chips getting knocked over or crushed. "Jeanbo admitted we're his closest friends! Awww, you love us!"

Marco catches protest and laughs, and decides he's eavesdropped enough.  
He hangs up, then contemplates.  
That certainly answers a lot of questions he had for Jean but now it raises different inquiries.

Within an hour of deep thought, Marco's rings for the second time that night.

"Hello?" 

"You heard most of that, right?" Sasha says, straight to the point.

"...I did."

"Good. He doesn't think he does but Jean deserves happiness. You and I both know that." Marco couldn't agree more. Sasha clears her throat.

"Connie and I put this into extreme consideration. Therefore, speaking on behalf of the Great Springleship, we hereby grant you permission to court our Jeanbo!" Sasha declares. "So come pick him up, he's passed out on the couch."

"Thanks, Sasha. I'll be over in 10."

As soon as Marco ends the call, he spends an entire minute curled up on the sofa, cramped from laughing. Jean truly has amazing friends.

-+-+-

Sure enough, Connie opens the door for Marco twelve minutes later.

"Ah ha, the chauffeur arrives. Come in." He nods towards the living room. "He's still sleeping."

"Thanks for taking care of him." Marco pats Connie on the shoulder.

"We only suffered a few hours of venting," Sasha walks in from the kitchen holding a box of chicken wings. "Your turn to take care of him."

"Jean. It's time to get up," Marco kneels by Jean still passed out and brushes off the strands of hair on Jean's forehead. "I'm gonna get you home."

"Yeah...'m dead." Jean blinks at him and mumbles. "Jesus personally came to take me 'way."

Marco softly chuckles and stares at him with an adoring gaze.

"You know what you need to do," Sasha points at Marco with a chicken wing. "Watching you guys dance around each other ruins my appetite." Marco didn't think anything could ruin her gluttony but he nods regardless.

"Didn't have much on him, but I put his phone and keys in the pockets." Connie comes back in and hands Marco Jean's jacket.

"Thanks Connie," Marco takes it and tries to put Jean into a sitting position. "You know, for people that were just drinking you both sound pretty sober."

"Connie's a lightweight, he gets drunk quick but sober just as fast if he doesn't keep it up." Sasha explains. "We're also broke. So we let Jean have it."

"I don't think Sasha had anything but food tonight." Connie squints trying to remember.  
Marco manages to get Jean's jacket on him. Now for the hard part.

"Jean." Marco gently shakes Jean's shoulder. "I need you to brace yourself."

Before Jean could respond, Marco picks him up bridal style. Jean yelps at the sudden lift and attempts to object with a weak pat on Marco's cheek. Marco just laughs and continues to the door.

"Hey Marco," Sasha calls before they leave. "I better get a thank you text from Jean tomorrow."

"You got it. Thanks you guys."  
Marco leaves the door for them to lock up.

"Well done, Agent," Sasha holds out her sticky fist. "I'm pleased to say our mission was quite successful."

"Guess it's up to Prince Charming to sweep our lovely horse-faced princess." Connie mimics her and bumps her fist.

"He's obviously got that covered."

"Did you get a picture?"

"I can't believe you need to ask."

-+-+-

"Aaunghhh."

Jean wakes up with the blazing sun in his eyes. He rolls over with a splitting headache and a parched mouth.

The shades were wide open letting in the unforgiving bright inferno. He peeks at his clock. It's not even ten yet, therefore still way too early. The world undeniably hates him.  
How did he even get into this situation. When in doubt, blame Sasha and Connie. Oh right. His colossal titanic crush on Marco... Nah, he can still accuse those barbarians.

Crap, Marco texted last night didn't he. He obviously wanted answers.  
It wasn't that Jean didn't want to see Marco, because hearing his laugh is probably the best thing that can happen all day. Jean just needed his feelings in check before he does something stupid, like blurt out his feelings or kiss him. There were too many close calls. What Jean requires is some space to clear his mind and just breathe. Yeah, that sounds like a good temporary solution. He'll figure out the rest when he gets there.

Jean glances at the nightstand by his bed and finds his phone charging and a large cup of water with aspirin on the side. Huh, that's oddly nice of Connie. Jean must have really shown his pathetic side last night.

He slowly gets up to drink his water and flicks through his messages. Twelve from Marco and one from Sasha. Good god, Marco must be worried sick. He'll have to message back when he doesn't feel like his head's been cracked open. Jean checks Sasha's text.

**Sasha: GOOD LUCK ;D**

Good luck? With what? Did Jean promise to do something last night? Good luck on dealing with his feelings? Nope, nu uh, no more thinking. His brain is already scrambled. Now is not the time. Now is the time for coffee, eggs, a shower, and more sleep. Doesn't matter what order.

Jean lazily gets out of bed and notices he's down to nothing but boxers. Those jokes probably drew all over his face as well. Urghhh.

There's a clanging sound from the kitchen. Jean freezes in his tracks. He picks up his hockey stick and holds it infront as he quietly opens his bedroom door. He wouldn't be entirely surprised if he found Sasha raiding his fridge again but weirder things has happened. Jean carefully walks through the living room, stick at the ready.

Bacon. That is definitely the smell of bacon. Someone's cooking bacon in his kitchen. Jean didn't even know he had bacon.

"Jean! You're up!"

Okay, he's had dreams like this before but normally Marco would be naked under that apron. So this couldn't be a dream?

"How are you feeling? Did you have some water? I left some in your room earlier."

"Hnnmg?"

Marco turns to look at Jean and laughs. Jean must've been a sight. A confused bed head in boxers clutching a hockey stick.

"Sit down, have some coffee first." Marco hands him a mug. "Eggs and bacon will be ready soon."

Coffee. Glorious black coffee. Jean gradually starts to reboot.

"What happened yesterday?" Jean croaks and pushes his mug towards Marco for more coffee. He couldn't remember past getting to Connie's and drinking half his weight. There were clearly missing pieces from then and now.

"Honestly, quite a bit. I tried to get a hold of you. Which reminds me," Marco pours him another and quickly flips the eggs on the pan. "We still need to talk."

Oh no. Ohhhhhh no. There goes his plan to avoid this as long as humanly possible. Chucked right out the window. Jean's not ready to talk, not at all.

"You don't need to say anything right now," Marco hands him a plate with scrambled eggs and five pieces of bacon. "Just hear me out first."

Fuuuck. Marco's gonna ask all the right questions and Jean's gonna spill the beans, every single one. Jean can bullshit hard but when it comes from a direct question, he gives a straight answer.

"I'll be frank. This week's been a little weird for us. And at first, I didn't quite understand why the sudden gap between us."

It doesn't help that its too early for Jean to properly function. Moreover it's Marco. This guy pulls the disappointed parent look so well, Jean feels guilty for even thinking of lying.

"Jean, I consider you my best friend, you know that right? You can be completely honest with me. There is literally nothing you can say that'll change that."

Jean wonders how long he can stay locked up in his room with just this plate of food. He can totally live off tap water for the next few days. That's proven science, right?

"I've given it a lot of thought and I trust you. So I'm going to tell you something first."

If Jean thought his brain was already being whacked with a sledgehammer, his mental state was getting mutilated by army tanks due to maximum overdrive. How did he get himself into this situation and how does he get out??

Without deviation, Marco sits infront of him, takes the hand that isn't gripping the mug, and looks into Jean's eyes.

"I am completely and utterly infatuated with you, Jean."

Yup, his life is over. Jean's gonna change his name and move awa- Wait. What? Infatuated? With him? Huh? No. This... is definitely a dream. It would explain why he had no idea how he got home. Jean is going to wake up on Connie's lumpy couch to an obscene headache, much like this one, and sulk over how his conscience knows how much he wants this.

"I don't know when it started. It could've been the little frown you make when you're frustrated with your essays. Or the laughs you let loose when you're drunk and your guard is completely down. Maybe even from the first day you came in and ordered a black coffee with that scowl on your face."

He's staring bashfully at their hands and threads their fingers together. There's a faint blush complimenting Marco's freckles.

"But I know my feelings. I'm falling in love with my best friend everyday."

"H-hang on. Just... give me a moment." Jean releases the mug and regrettably Marco's hand to hide his face. He hasn't blushed this hard since that one time Connie tried using his monkey brain and Mikasa caught Jean with his pants down.

"Please tell me this isn't a prank," Jean sneaks a look through his fingers. "Tell me those idiots didn't set this up."

"Jean," Marco takes his hand again. Bet he just wants to see Jean's burning face. "Everything I've said is completely true and this is how I feel. But I can't say that Sasha and Connie weren't involved."

Jean couldn't decide if he wanted to throttle them or treat them to all-you-can-eat.

"On that note, tell Sasha thanks for yesterday."

"What? Why? What did she do?"

"Shh, it's okay," Marco starts to stand up. "You must be tired. Finish your food and get more rest. I've got afternoon shift today, so I'll probably see you tomorrow morning."

"Wait! I haven't said anything about... what you said.." Jean was pretty sure he could reheat his plate of eggs with his face considering how much he was blushing over a confession.

"You don't have to say anything. You said plenty last night," Marco presses a light kiss on Jean's forehead. "I'll see you tomorrow."

Marco nabs a strip of bacon from Jean's plate, grabs his bag, and heads out the door. Jean just gapes after him.

....What the fuck happened last night.

-+-+-

"Jeanbo, my little lamb!" Sasha says dramatically into her cellphone while stacking her foot long and tall sandwich. "To what pleasure do I owe this lovely phone call?" Just watch, Connie. She's gonna make this scrumptious sandwich work.

"Tell me what happened after I got there and drank like no tomorrow."

"Hmmm," Sasha adds bacon on the baguette. "But what will I ever get from this?"

"You make it sound like I need to sign a contract to get the full story."

"Now sing, child! Sing!"

"That was a horrible reference."

"Shush, Ursula is a fabulous villain." Sasha can practically hear Jean mentally sighing. Disney references is totally wasted on this kid.

"Food for a day." Wow, Jean must really want to know what progressed last night. He doesn't offer more than lunch. "Three meals. I'm not paying for snacks."

"Awww, but that's still part of the day."

"Don't care how loaded you think my family is," Jean seems a little irritated. "I don't have the money for the black hole you call a stomach."

"Snacks or no deal." Sasha knows Jean. He'll come to terms eventually.

"Fine. Tell me what you did."

"What makes you think I did anything?"

"You wouldn't ask for a deal if you hadn't done anything wrong. You're probably going to hold this over my head before I can strangle you guys. Can't die on an empty stomach, was it?" Looks like Jean knows Sasha just as well.

"Okay. So you're not wrong." Sasha slices some turkey. "I might've done something. But in my defence, you guys were drunk and I was bored."

"Just give me the story."

"Well, your phone kept going off and I decided it was a fantastic idea to call whoever was messaging you. Judging by the lovestruck face you've been pulling everytime you texted lately, it had to be Marco." Sasha sticks lettuce on top of the beef and nibbles on some ham. "Except there was the passcode, right? Shoulda tried Marco's birthday. But I emergency dialled him instead."

"Oh my god."

"And you know when you're drunk, you rant about whatever's on your mind? It juuust so happened that you were in the middle of ranting about Marco's charming smiles, kissable freckles, and his _cat_ astrophic latte when he was listening in."

"Oh no."

"Oh yeah." Sasha nods. "I hear you _liiiike_ him. Really _reallllly_ like him. The kind that you wanna hold hands with and go on dates under starry skies."

"Fuck."

"That too." Hmm, fresh onions and tomatoes would be so good right now.

"So, basically I confessed over the phone."

"Uh huh," Sasha sprinkles more pepper and continues. "After all that, he came by to pick you up when you passed out. Literally. Those biceps are much stronger than they look. You were like dead weight. Even got a pic-"

Sasha hears a click. Oh, he hung up. That's fine, leave him to be melodramatic. Things probably already worked out for him. She'll remind him to feed her later.

She looks at her somewhat progressing sandwich. Where's that chicken. This definitely needs more meat.

  
-+-+-

"What is that??"

"Hmm?" Marco looks up from his cellphone.

"That! That background picture on your phone!" Jean points.

"Nothin'." He turns off the screen and tries to tuck his phone away.

"Sure, Marco. You're gonna convince me with that look."

"What look?"

"That innocent puppy look!"

"Dunno what you're talking about."

"You're veering off, gimme your phone!"

"No!"

"Gimme tha-"

Jean knocks him to the floor and wrestles the phone out of Marco's hands. Not that Marco put much of a fight with Jean straddling his waist.

"When was this??? Who took this?!"

"That day I picked you up....when you got completely drunk over at Connie's."

"Oh my god. I'm gonna eat everything they have." Jean squints at the phone. "Jesus, what was I trying to do with your face."

"You wanted me to let go."

"God, why didn't you?"

"Seeing that you were clearly wasted with no means to hold on, it was that or the fireman carry. And I didn't want you more sick. So that was my best option."

"Lies, piggyback would've worked." Jean shoves the phone in Marco's face. "Delete it."

"What? No. Never."

"It's embarrassing. Urgh, my face is so blotchy."

"Nooooo, I like it."

"You've got the real thing," Jean mutters and looks away. His ears are red. "Why do you need that picture."

Oh no, that's too cute. Jean would probably get mad if Marco said that aloud.

"It's not everyday I get confessed to from the one I like over the phone." Marco admits and smiles when Jean turns scarlet. He wonders just how far that blush goes under that shirt.

"Christ, no one's gonna ever let that go." Jean clicks his tongue.

"Not at all." Marco agrees and tugs at Jean's collar silently asking for a kiss.

"Don't think for a second you can distract me from that pic." Jean leans over and mumbles against Marco's lips.

"Hmm?" Marco gently sucks at Jean's bottom lip and grins. "What pic?"

"I swear," Jean breathes into their kiss. "I'm gonna find a way to delete that off your phone."

"I could easily ask Sasha to send it again." Marco runs his fingers through Jean's undercut. "I might have a copy on my pc, you'll never know."

Marco laughs at Jean's frown and lightly pecks his nose.

"Let me keep this one 'til I find a better picture of you."

Marco catches Jean's lips again before he could respond. And when Jean sighs into his soft caress, Marco knows he won this round.

**Author's Note:**

> I'll be completely honest. Five years of reading different fics and I've never written a fic in my life. I just got really bored waiting for updates. 
> 
> Thank you for giving this short bit a try.  
> Let me know if you liked it, didn't like it, write more, or stop cold turkey.


End file.
